


Puerto Vallarta

by bookwyrmling



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:12:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwyrmling/pseuds/bookwyrmling
Summary: It's been five years since they met in a whirlwind vacation fling and five years since they began dating. Bitty wants to make sure the next five years, and much longer, start off on the right foot.





	Puerto Vallarta

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Redporkpadthai (Emomanga1)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emomanga1/gifts).



> So my original receiver dropped out. This is the prompt they gave me:
> 
> I'd really like a fluffy Bitty/Parse story. Not tooth rotting or anything, but mostly sweet. Not sad, not angsty. Mentions of past angst are totally chill, but like, my life is super angsty right now IRL so not for fic purposes, please. Other than that, I'm good with anything. I like AUs, I like canon verse, I like comedy. I'm a firm believer that the tumblr post that is the screen shot of person one saying "wait, you like me? For my personality?" "I know I was surprised too" is actually about Bitty/Parse as a ship, so that could be fun? But mostly I'm in it for anything. And thank you! (also smut is fine, and it's also fine if it gets left out).
> 
> There's no smut and barely a mention of angst. I hope the fluff doesn't rot everyone's teeth out, though.
> 
> And, to my new receiver, redporkpadthai, I hope you enjoy this!

It was some cross between a resort advertisement for a romantic getaway and a parody, Bitty decided as he stared out the double doors to the balcony where Kent was leaning against the wrought iron balustrade, looking out over the Mexican coastline to where the Pacific Ocean met a sky burning with the golds and reds of a tropical sunset. His unbuttoned shirt—printed palm trees on a red background because _kitschy_ had been Kent Parson’s aesthetic since before Bitty had met him—fluttered in the offshore breeze and his flip-flops scratched sand just loud enough to hear over the roaring surf as he scuffed the toes of his left foot along the balcony’s terra cotta tile. The backlighting left the spade on his hat in shadow, but Bitty would never fail to recognize Kent’s worn out Aces cap from his first Stanley Cup season. Bitty also knew for a fact that Kent would have a sunburnt patch on his forehead from wearing it backwards the whole day while using his sunglasses and hand to shade his eyes. At least his neck would be okay.

Picking up the two flutes of champagne he had just poured, Bitty bit at his lip in appreciation and anticipation before stepping up to Kent’s side. “You know you’re a sap, right?” he asked with a lopsided grin as he passed one over.

Kent took it with a raised eyebrow, glancing into the white bubbles before looking back up at Bitty. “Says the guy pouring champagne?”

The crystal flutes clinked and sang in a silent cheer as each man took a sip. Kent resettled his arms on the railing and Bitty slipped one of his arms through Kent’s, resting his head on the other man’s shoulder and taking in the scene that had caught Kent’s attention.

“It’s our five year anniversary,” Bitty argued as he fiddled with his flute, watching the champagne swirl as he tipped its container around and around. “Champagne is called for.”

“Well, I think five years calls for a bit of sap,” Kent replied and it might have come across matter-of-factly if it weren’t for the huge grin on his face.

Bitty huffed a laugh and shook his head before asking, with a measure of awe, “But still. The exact same room you had when we met?” He eyed Kent before turning back around to face the room in question, slipping his arm from Kent’s but pressing right back up against him, “How did you even remember that?”

Kent shrugged and turned around, as well, leaning back against the balustrade and wrapping an arm behind Bitty. “The hotel helped, actually,” he admitted before taking another sip of the champagne. He smiled fondly at Bitty from the corner of his eyes. “But when you suggested coming back to where we met, I figured, might as well pull out all the stops.” He took a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out slowly, relaxation settling his shoulders. “Besides, it’s the best room here.”

Bitty smirked from where he was tucked into Kent’s side. “Pretty sure there are nicer suites and even fancier hotels,” he pointed out, but Kent wrapped his arm around Bitty’s waist and pulled him in closer.

“But they aren’t the room I first fucked you in,” he murmured into Bitty’s hair before turning to press into him and press him into the handrail.  “They aren’t the room where you made me first realize we could make something out of this.” Kent trailed kisses down Bitty’s face from his temple, unwrapping his hold of him to reach up and tilt his head up and bring his mouth that much closer.

Bitty shivered under the ministrations, his eyes falling shut as he gripped onto his champagne flute so he did not accidentally drop it.

“They aren’t the room where I finally realized that love didn’t have to be a once in a lifetime thing and they aren’t the room where I finally realized that it didn’t have to hurt.”

“Me, too.” And, before Bitty could start crying, he pushed up and pressed his lips against Kent’s hard enough to chase away the stinging in his eyes.

“I know I fucked up,” Kent said as he broke away for a breath before diving back in, coaxing Bitty’s jaw open for a kiss that tasted of dry champagne and heavy nectar and just a bit of the seafood they had eaten for a late lunch upon arriving, “but thank you. For giving me another shot.”

They pulled away again and Bitty put a hand up to hold Kent back just long enough to drain his champagne and set the flute on the nearest pillar before reaching up to pull Kent’s face back down to his with both hands.

“You’re the best fucking thing that ever happened to me,” Kent whispered when kisses slowed, pressing his forehead against Bitty’s and looking him in the eyes with all the love Bitty felt scrabbling in his chest and clawing up his throat in reply.

“And only the best for Kent Parson,” Bitty chirped instead, the words fond and soft as he brushed one of his thumbs along Kent’s jaw, while his other hand slipped around to the nape of his neck, playing with the beach curls there.

Kent’s eyes fell shut with Bitty’s ministrations, and a pleased hum percolated in his throat as the two stood wrapped in the silence of their immediate surroundings, foreheads pressed together, rocking back and forth in a musicless dance. “No,” he finally replied simply as he reopened his eyes in search of Bitty’s, arms dropping once more to Bitty’s waist to pull him closer. “Only the best for you,” he corrected. The fingers of his empty hand spread out along Bitty’s lower back, caught the hem of his shirt and slipped beneath, pressing against soft, heated flesh just a little sticky from the summer sun and tropic humidity.

Bitty moaned. It was soft and short and glad for the contact, filled with a lazy, buzzing sort of comfort that had a tendency to lead to long, drawn-out touches, fluttering, open-mouthed kisses and orgasms that repositioned the world. He leaned into the touch before pressing onto his toes and grabbing Kent’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. He grinned at the way Kent tugged him closer, feeling the crescents of his fingernails pressing just hard enough to notice against his back.

Kent’s lip popped out from between his teeth. “You should finish your champagne,” he murmured through a smile against Kent’s lips before pulling away and pressing Kent’s occupied hand back towards him with a suggestive smirk.

Kent’s eyes lit up and his own crooked smirk pulled itself into place as he kept eye contact with Bitty, letting the other man push the flute up to his mouth before finally flinging it back to down it at once.

Something hard hit his upper lip and he tore the glass away.

“What the fuck?” he cried, eyes closed as his fingers rubbed at the suddenly sore spot.

Bitty was laughing. It was clear he was trying not to between the sputters and muffled giggles, but Kent opened his eyes to glare at Bitty for the noise all the same. He stood there, hands covering his mouth, eyes opened wide with shock and glowing with mirth as they slipped between Kent’s annoyed face and the glass. It drew Kent’s attention to it, as well, and he brought the flute up to eye level to find it mostly empty now—save for something found and metallic clinking around in a small puddle at the bottom.

Kent felt his stomach physically drop through the balcony.

“You weren’t supposed to down it in one go,” Bitty finally said behind pursed lips likely still holding back laughter, his hands hiding sheepishly behind his back.

“Wait.” Kent blinked, his hands shaking, too afraid to dump the contents of the flute out onto his hand as his stomach jumped into the clouds next. He watched Bitty in awe, “is this—?”

Kent’s eyes were grey. Based on the lighting, the colors he was wearing, if he was tired, had been crying or was happy they sometimes appeared different colors, but Bitty knew they were grey. He also knew they tended to look dark blue when he’d been crying, green when he was wearing red, brown when he was mentally or physically tired and light blue when he was happy. The light blue in Kent’s eyes right now was uplifting and Bitty stepped back up against Kent, took the flute from his shaking hand and dumped the last of the champagne and the ring out onto his palm.

“Kent Parson,” he began with shaky words, setting the flute next to his on the pillar before turning back to Kent and holding the ring up between them. He was already fighting to hold back the tears. “I love you and, as much as eighteen year old me didn’t think something this real could happen that fast—” Bitty smiled apologetically there, but Kent smiled back and shook his head because he hadn’t realized what that vacation fling he had decided to indulge in five years ago would lead to, either. “—and as much as twenty year old me thought the other shoe had finally dropped,” Bitty continued, “twenty-three year old me has realized you are the best fucking thing that ever happened to me.”

“Bitty…” Kent choked through his tight throat, refusing to blink even as his eyes began to burn from his wide stare.

“And since I deserve the best,” Bitty pointed out through a frenetic smile as he held the ring out with his thumb and index finger, “you better put this fucking ring on your finger and kiss me.”

It was not even a question and it didn’t need to be. Kent surged forward, slipping his finger into the ring Bitty was still holding up and leaning down to kiss him: once, twice, again. “I love you,” he murmured before leaning in for the fourth time, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Their teeth knocked together and they both laughed, even though neither was willing to pull away.

“I love you so much,” Kent spoke into Bitty’s teeth and lips.

“Me, too, sweetpea,” Bitty replied in turn.

They stayed pressed together like that, grinning and giggling, Kent slipping the fingers of his ringed hand between Bitty’s while their other hands wrapped around each other, pulling them closer.

“Fuck! Bitty—!” Kent pulled far enough away to see Bitty’s face without going cross-eyed, holding it between both his hands. There was an almost manic grin on his face as he said, “I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you!”

Bitty giggled, caught up in Kent’s energy. “You better!”

Kent’s eyes moved out to the beach and the city that had brought the two of them together and shouted at the top of his lungs. “You hear that?! I’m gonna marry this man!” as Bitty continued to crack up, his hands holding Kent’s against his face.

There were some hoots and hollers and applause from people who heard and Kent looked back at Bitty, pressed his forehead once more against Bitty’s, before reaching down, grabbing him around the waist and throwing him over his shoulder.

“Kent!” Bitty squealed as he was hauled back into the room and tossed onto the bed.

“I’m gonna marry the fuck out of you,” Kent said once more as he tossed his hat aside, his hair curling every which way. “But first I need to touch you.”

“I need to touch you, too, honey,” Bitty admitted, reaching out to grab the edge of Kent’s shirt and tug him down.

Right before their lips touched, however, Kent pulled back. “Purrs is gonna be the ringbearer, right?” he asked, eyes wide in concern.

Bitty laughed and smiled at him, reaching his hands up to grab Kent by the face. “Sweetheart,” he promised, “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Now hurry up and touch me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank my beta-reader, Kylie! And both of this exchange's mods for putting this exchange on! Also, Happy Birthday, Kent Parson!


End file.
